The porcelain objects assembled in the museum form an imaginary toolkit for humanity at a crossroads. What appears familiar at first glance – a cap, a necklace, a glove, a VR headset – becomes the starting point for existential questions about human values and future forms of life. It is no coincidence that porcelain takes centre stage here. Both precious and fragile, it embodies cultural refinement and the fragility of existence.

The light-coloured porcelain cap in the museum’s display window bears the colourful, playful lettering “Fuck Humanity” – an exclamation that blends cynicism and despair. The painted pocket watch has stopped at 14:27 – a moment in the afternoon when concentration wanes and human beings reach their fundamental biological limits. It appears to be a relic from a bygone era and, at the same time, suggests that humanity’s time may already have run out.

The second, dark-coloured cap in the skull display case in the Specimen Hall bears the lettering “Mankind Sucks”. Around it are arranged golden bones and a golden torso – remnants of the human body, akin to a memento mori, a reminder of the mortality that lies behind all ambitions. Both works question the significance of humanity, compassion and responsibility and how self-evident these values are to us.

The oversized necklace in the display case Speculative Theories – Universal System is reminiscent of the heavy gold chains seen in 1990s rap and hip-hop videos, which were once symbols of wealth, power and unshakeable self-confidence. But where dollar signs and diamonds would normally appear, this necklace bears a different inscription: “Endless Suffering”, its letters painted in gold. The title emerged from a series of conversations with AI about the future of the human species. The former status symbol is thus mockingly turned on its head. Instead of triumph, the necklace proclaims suffering with no way out.

On display in the optics showcase is the VR headset Passenger. Rather than being worn, it has already become one with the body: strands of muscle entwine around its casing, suggesting a direct neural connection to the brain. It is no longer an interface; instead, the VR headset and the body form an organic symbiosis. Behind the mirrored visor lies a virtual world of sleep, a digital retreat symbolised by the Japanese characters for “sleep”, drawing on a culture in which such VR worlds have become particularly widespread. For the artist, the fact that people are increasingly escaping into virtual realities to find relaxation or sleep there marks the dystopian core of today’s developments: the real world apparently no longer offers sufficient refuge. The body becomes secondary; consciousness becomes a passenger in a self-chosen illusion.

The gleaming silver space gloves from the work oxygen water love (angel) in the skin display case combine the art of palmistry – an ancient form of divination – with the technologised world of tomorrow. On the left-hand glove, the heart line appears as a nearly depleted battery with a broken heart; the head line becomes an oxygen tube; a small wing on the thumb alludes to a guardian angel line; and a water gauge on the wrist is now only one-third full. Instead of love, life and fate being interpreted spiritually, they are depicted as measurable and finite resources. The right-hand glove directs the gaze outwards. Along its lines run the orbits of real and fictional habitable worlds – Mars, Proxima Centauri b, and Coruscant from Star Wars. The planets appear as potential destinations for escape and raise the question of whether humanity is seeking new worlds because it can no longer preserve its own.

Together, these objects paint a picture of humanity increasingly pushing beyond its biological limits, without leaving its fundamental conflicts behind. Progress, artificial intelligence, virtual worlds and the search for new habitats do not appear as solutions, but as expressions of a growing sense of alienation. In the end, one question remains: What will become of humanity as technology continues to transform us – and will what is left still be human?

Text by Rona Kobel
Rona Kobel is sculptor and artist.